


selfless

by jeannbeann



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Gen, Grima Actually Cares??? MAYBE?, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Sex, also kiran reinforces that consent is important, and also the first thing i've ever posted on here, but you can always take it as grima being short too, do ... do i tag everything too, dont look at me, i cant believe i wrote this, i just had a lot of Grima feelings and it resulted in this mess, i write my summoner as taller than everyone else, im changing my name and moving to the outskirts of the wild dont look for me, just like in the book 2 movie lmao, just pls mind the explicit tag im dying inside, the thirst shows, this is the most explicit thing ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannbeann/pseuds/jeannbeann
Summary: She treats him carefully, as though he will break at the slightest wrong touch.“This okay?” she asks, her voice soft. “Can I keep going?”Permission. She’s asking for permission. The revelation makes the ache in his chest grow, and something unsettling, warm and nearly queasy twist in his gut./Grima believes humans can only take. Kiran shows him that she's willing to give.





	selfless

              She treats him carefully, as though he will break at the slightest wrong touch.

 

              Her hands run through his hair in a caress that’s far too gentle and almost _loving_ , he almost can’t stand it. He tenses, his entire body rigid as she touches him. Her fingers— _filthy, human, mortal fingers_ , hisses a voice within him, terse and terrified and desperate to tear those fingers away—are light as they move against his skin. Her thumb runs against his cheek. She cradles his face gingerly, gazing into his eyes with a tender gaze that makes something in his chest quiver and _ache_ , and the voice within him—angry, twisted, jaded—falls silent.

 

              “This okay?” she asks, her voice soft. “Can I keep going?”

 

              _Permission. She’s asking for permission._ The revelation makes the ache in his chest grow, and something unsettling, warm and nearly queasy twist in his gut. For a split second, he has the overwhelming urge to take control; to pin her to his bed and have his way with her. He knows he’s done it before, with other disgusting little worms that came to him and begged for his love, for his attention, wanting to take and take more of it, their greed never satiated. It isn’t until she brushes the bangs away from his forehead, something fond and sincere in her eyes as she does so, that he finds himself swallowing the urge back, rooted back to the present—to her. He forces himself to breathe, and reminds himself, _she’s asking for permission._

 

              “Continue,” he mutters, almost absurdly glad his voice doesn’t shake. He is a god. He is _Grima._ His voice does not—should not, _will never_ —shake.

 

              His heart—human, painfully human—still beats a little quicker when she smiles in relief.

 

              She moves her hands down to his own, lifting them to lace their fingers together. Even with her daunting height, his hands are still bigger than her own: a fact that she doesn’t seem to mind, as she leans in to plant kisses on each of his fingers. Her lips are soft and warm against his skin, and he narrowly relaxes, only to tense all over again the moment she leans in and kisses his chin. She meets his gaze steadily, before her own eyes flutter shut and she continues her path to kiss his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and so forth until she’s mapped out his entire face with her lips.

 

              Except, that is, his mouth.

 

              He waits for her to kiss him in the same way he’s seen other humans kiss each other before in nauseating displays of affection for the world to see. He should feel repelled by the idea, but instead, he finds himself expectant, a flare of genuine _want_ flickering to life within his chest; he ignores it in favour of looking at her. They’re sitting close enough that their noses are brushing, that her breath is warm against his chin, and she still won’t kiss him. She’s only gazing at him, studying his face with enough intensity that his skin prickles with heat. He scowls. “Did I not say continue?” he points out, almost petulantly.

 

              “I will, if you’re okay with it, I just…” she trails off, and the warmth in him freezes at thinking that she’s suddenly reconsidering everything. Just as he’s about to pull away from her and shut her out all over again, however, she huffs out a tiny, shy laugh and admits, “I, uh, just wanted to look at you for a little, that’s all. It’s—um. Well. I, ah, really like…”

 

              She mumbles something under her breath that he can’t catch. He narrows his eyes. “Speak up.”

 

              Kiran looks sheepish. “I said I really like your eyes,” she admits, clearer this time. He must look genuinely startled by her response, because she flushes and goes on, flustered, “T-They’re honestly beautiful, y’know? Back in my world, I’ve never met anyone who had such red eyes, unless they wore contact lenses or had a certain condition called—”

 

              The rest of her words are cut off when he leans the rest of the way in and kisses her first. She lets out a surprised sound, before she melts against him, letting go of his hands to run hers up his arms until they rest on his shoulders. It’s short and surprisingly chaste, and they pull away to gaze at each other with lidded eyes. His heart—traitorous little thing—beats frantically against his ribs, and the flicker of want is steadily growing to a flame, particularly when he finds himself watching the way Kiran’s tongue runs against her lips nervously. She looks back at him, her own gaze clouded with mirroring desire, but she still hesitates—and hesitates long enough for the last of his patience to finally wear thin.

 

              “No more asking permission,” he tells her, irritated. “I said _continue_ , Kiran, and that means— _mmph._ ”

 

              She kisses him this time, with gusto. Her arms snake around his neck, and she moves her mouth against him in a way that easily skips past hesitant into nearly _desperate_. He hums, pleased with the difference, and runs his tongue against hers, exploring her mouth. He runs his fangs over her bottom lip, hard enough that it earns him a shudder. Emboldened, he pushes against her until she willingly falls backwards against the bed, dragging him along with her until he’s pressing her against the mattress. Their legs tangle, and the sound that tumbles out of her when he moves his knee to press against her is enough to make his head spin. His hands begin to wander, keen on drawing out more similar noises. A fierce tug gets her coat open, and one hand fumbles to undo her belt while the other grabs whatever it can find, his fingers digging into her thigh—

 

              He’s stopped when she abruptly flips them over, in a startling display of physical strength, to straddle him instead. She grins down at him, her hair and clothes in disarray, and laughs. “Sorry, sorry,” she snickers, most of all when he glowers up at her, disgruntled by the abrupt change in control. Her face softens. “I want _you_ to feel good, too, Grima. It’s…it’s your turn to be selfish, and be the one receiving something. J-Just—just let me do this right now for _you_. Please?”

 

              He wants to tell her that it’s only pathetic and unnecessary sentiment, but words fail him when she touches his cheek lightly, his heart swelling at the contact. He leans into the touch, just a little, and nods, ever so slightly. Kiran kisses him again in response, long and deep, their lips meeting again and again as they work each other’s clothes off. He manages to get her in just her bra—a ridiculous contraption from her world, bright blue and frilly—and pants by the time he’s lying shirtless beneath her, but his plan to continue tugging her clothes off is cut short by the way she continues mapping her way of his body through her lips. She brushes a kiss over his nipple, and, against his will, a tiny sound escapes him; another one narrowly follows when she kisses the other, tongue sneaking out to toy with it as she suckles gently. He stiffens, self-conscious once more as she kisses her way down his body, over his toned abs and going steadily further down until she’s tugging at his belt, her fingers at his pants—

 

              He told her no more asking for permission, but it still makes something in him soften when she still glances up at him, checking his expression, before she continues.

 

              She pulls his cock free, nudging his pants and underwear to his knees, and he catches a glimmer of genuine nervousness flicker through her expression when she sees it. He’s torn between pride and the same edge of self-doubt at her reaction. He’s vaguely tempted to boast— _what human man could possibly compare to me_ —but he keeps silent, clenching his jaw as she studies him. It’s almost unnerving, up until she begins to stroke him, her hand firm around his shaft. He’s startled when she leans down to kiss the tip, her tongue darting out to lick the pre-come dotting the end. She glances back up at him as she does so, her eyes lidded and her expression heated—it’s enough to make him harden more, his dick twitching in her hands as she continues to stroke him. Her tongue swirls around the tip, almost teasingly, and he bites back a choked curse when she finally takes him into her mouth. She sinks down as far as she can take, before she pulls back, her tongue running up his shaft until she releases him with a _pop._ A trail of saliva follows her, but she pays little mind in favour of running her thumb over his slit, slicking his dick with more pre-come.

 

              He doesn’t realize his hands are digging into the sheets until she stops jerking him off, long enough to look up at him again and tell him, “Don’t hold back, okay? I want—I want to hear you.”

 

              His retort dies a second later when she takes him again, starting a steady rhythm of bobbing her head. She moves one hand in a firm grip on the base of his dick where she can’t reach with her mouth, and uses her other to fondle his balls. He jolts, groaning, when she _sucks_ on his foreskin, her tongue running across a vein. Her mouth is hot against him. The noises are almost obscene, most of all when saliva dribbles down her chin from her own efforts. He moves one hand from the bed to dig into her hair instead, pushing her bangs away from her face to see her better. He watches as her mouth hollows out whenever she suckles on his cock, the way her tongue moves as she moves her head up to swirl it around the tip once more, the way she hums against his skin as she bobs down again. She tears another noise out of him when she gently uses her teeth, and she huffs out something suspiciously akin to snort as she continues to blow him off, eagerly.

 

              “Insolent little Summoner,” Grima breathes, no real heat to his words, shuddering when she moves her hand a little quicker in return, moaning readily around his dick. He digs her fingers a little harder into her hair, taking a fistful as he moans, low and deep, “F-Fuck…”

 

              “Just like that,” she breathes, moving down to lick him, from the bottom to the top of his cock. “Keep making those sounds.”

 

              The spiteful little voice inside him is vaguely tempted to do everything in its power to not listen to her request, but it fails miserably the moment Kiran _moans_ around his dick, as if to show him what sort of noise she wants from him. He shudders, fingers digging harder into her hair. He doesn’t realize that he’s moving his hips to fuck into her mouth, slightly, nor does he realize that the tiny grunts and gasps filling the air are truly coming from him—a fact that seems to please her, if the way she speeds up her bobbing is any indication. He watches her, heart thudding in his ears, face flushed, and every nerve alight with sensations. Her mouth is hot and wet, and she doesn’t even mind when he moves his own hips quicker, fucking that mouth in gusto now. His groans are getting louder, and he twists his hand a little harder into her hair, watching as she sucks on his cock, the noises between them almost obscene. She’s humming against him, seemingly genuinely enraptured by her own ministrations, her hips rolling against the bed as she takes him in as deep as she can.

 

              When he comes, it’s sudden and he gives no warning.

 

              Instead, he shudders in the wave of pleasure that rocks him, and when his muddled mind collects itself, Kiran is struggling to swallow his seed. It dribbles out of her mouth as she milks him dry, running her tongue along his dick until he twitches and pushes her head away, sensitive in the aftermath. She sits back. He stares as she swallows the rest of his come, before she smiles at him, part-hopeful, part-tentative despite her best effort to look confident.

 

              “How was that?” she asks, trying to sound smug. “I mean, it _sounded_ like you liked it, but I just want to— _mmph._ ”

 

              He leans forward to kiss her, his hand snaking around to cup the back of her head to drag her closer until she’s bent awkwardly over him. He feels her tense beneath him, startled by the abrupt lip-lock. It isn’t until he deepens the kiss that she finally relaxes, willingly easing forward until she settles on his lap, her legs on either side of his hips. She wraps her arms around his neck, and hums into the kiss when his hands roam; first to unclasp her infernal bra’s hook, and then to squeeze and run his hands over her breasts once they’re finally freed from the blasted thing. He feels her huff out a laugh against his lips at sensing his frustration. He’s pleased when it turns into a near-desperate ‘ _oh_ ’ when his thumbs roll over her nipples, teasing them mercilessly. His head spins, listening to the sounds that fall from her lips in-between bruising kisses as he plays with her breasts, which seem to be a particularly sensitive spot for her.

 

              The sounds escalate into a moan when he drops one hand to slip past her pants and underwear.

 

              Two fingers ease into delicious warmth and wetness for a moment before her hand catches his wrist, stalling any further progression. “W-Wait,” she gasps, breaking free from the kiss to stare at him. Her eyes are wide, pupils blown even wider, and her face is flushed all the way to her ears. Her breathing is shaky as she stammers, previous confidence during her blowjob overrun by nervous apprehension. “Y-You—you don’t have to—I didn’t expect you to want to, uh, do anything for me, Grima. Remember, this was meant to be for _you_.”

 

              “This _is_ for me,” he growls back, irritated by her incessant selflessness. He moves one finger, just to watch her visibly shudder, and moves his free hand to grab her hip to keep her there. He stares into her eyes as he mutters, heatedly, “You said that you’re here to please me. Tonight, I intend to have you in as many ways as you can possibly handle, Kiran, until my very essence is all but seared into your skin. Is that not _selfish_ enough for you?”

 

              Her response dies the moment he moves again, deeper this time. She sighs shakily, her hand falling away from his wrist to grab onto him reflexively as he begins to fuck her with his fingers. Her folds are wet and slippery, and he leans in to kiss her neck as his fingers slide in and out. He suckles on her collarbone, listening to her moans as he starts a steady and hard pace; he rubs his thumb at the top of her clit, making her hips twitch from where he’s holding them steady. She clings onto him, her voice sweet as she reacts to every little movement of his fingers. She whimpers when he adds another finger. She curses when he speeds up, her fingers digging into where she has them tangled in his hair. She groans when he curls his fingers insider her, searching—

 

              Then, when he finds the spot he’s looking for, she jolts and all but chokes out his name, desperately, “ _Grima_.”

 

              She drags him into a sloppy kiss as he focuses on that spot, fingers thrusting into her until she keens and comes, twitching as he drags his fingers along the sensitive nerves of her clit. She watches, almost dazedly, as he pulls his hand back to lick her come from each finger—then yelps when he abruptly pushes her to lie back on the bed, sprawled out before him. Her attempt to sit back up is thwarted when he raises her hips until her thighs are resting on his shoulders. He spots the shock in her face as she looks up at him from where her shoulders are pressed to the bed as he keeps her there, his breath hot against her pussy. He keeps his eyes on her as he leans down and gives her wet folds a long, slow lick.

 

              The sound she makes is loud enough to echo in the room.

 

              _Good_ , he thinks as he begins to eat her out with gusto, his hands digging into her shaking thighs, _I want the whole castle to hear._

 

              Kiran doesn’t—or can’t—hold back her sounds as he licks and suckles on her cunt, using his tongue to reach the same spots that his fingers had moments ago. She twitches and jerks with every movement, gasping over his mouth touching still-sensitive nerves from her previous orgasm. He watches as she squirms, eyes fluttering shut as he licks her. One hand twists into the bedsheets as she moans, desperate and lost in the pleasure; the other reaches up to squeeze her breast, her own fingers toying with her nipple as her hips buckle beneath his tongue. When he hums into her folds, she curses again, louder and obscene. She struggles to look up at him, her eyes glazed as she watches him lick her. Their eyes meet, and he smirks before he sucks on the tiny sensitive nub at the top of her clit, tongue flicking against her wetness. It earns him a loud moan, her head falling back against the mattress.

 

              “G-Grima, _please_ ,” she all but begs when he begins to tease her, kissing and biting the inside of her thighs and leaving her practically dripping. “I…I _need_ …nngh…”

 

              “You want something of me?” he purrs, almost mockingly. His gaze is heated as he stares down at her, pressing a light kiss to the top of her clit that makes her thighs twitch. “So, you _do_ have a wish of me, Summoner.”

 

              He’s torn between being impressed and frustrated when Kiran only chokes out, earnest as ever, “I want as much as you’re willing to give me.” Then, a beat later, she adds, a streak of her own genuine frustration behind her words, “J-Just—just don’t _bully_ me, either, okay? I can only handle so… _ah_!”

 

              She gasps when his mouth envelops her again, with a vengeance. He listens to her breathing quicken as he moves his tongue against her, dropping one hand to finger her at the same time. He changes the speed, alternating between suckling on her clit and tongue-fucking her, his fingers curling inside her. Beneath him, she’s crumbling, her voice escalating to a mess of, _‘oh god_ ’ and ‘ _there, please, god, there_ ’ and senseless, wanton moaning. He feels her thighs tense on either side of his head, and watches as she begins to unravel, her hands digging into the sheets, her entire body arching, her chest heaving as her mouth falls open, voice shaking as she begs him to move just a little faster—

 

              She comes for the second time that night with a near scream, twitching as he licks her through every wave of her orgasm. Even when she’s done, he continues to suckle on her clit, chuckling when she’s the one to push his head away this time from her sensitive folds. He drops her thighs back down to the bed, letting her sprawl there, attempting to catch her breath. He licks his lips, the taste of her on his tongue; a sweet trophy of bringing her to a sweaty, speechless mess, he thinks smugly. He looks down at her, panting before him, and snorts.

 

              “We’re not finished yet,” he points out, running a finger up her leg and teasing it over the wetness between her thighs, earning another shudder. “We are nowhere near finished, in fact.”

 

              Kiran laughs, weakly. “Give me a sec,” she breathes, looking up at him with something fond and warm in her eyes that makes the ache in his chest flutter. Her eyes dart down to his erection and back, her cheeks flushing as she adds, “I’m not done, either, but I’m going to need to catch my breath before I even _think_ about riding a dragon right now.”

 

              He blinks. “Riding a…” he trails off when it dawns on him, and makes a face. “I am no mere _dragon_ , Kiran.”

 

              “That’s for sure,” she grins, cheekily. She’s pleased when she catches his lips twitch at her antics, before her expression softens. She reaches up for him, her fingers brushing over his chin. “You’re not _just_ a god, either.”

 

              Grima lets her trail her fingers over his skin, unfazed even when she runs them over the back of his hand. Instead, he watches as that painfully fond, endeared expression flitters over her face the moment he slowly turns his palm upwards to fit into hers, their fingers fitting together. Her eyes flick upwards to meet his, and a quiet moment passes between them—just warmth and softness and that strange ache in his chest that makes all the things that are gnarled and twisted within him unfurl, just a little.

 

              When she tugs on their joined hands lightly, he does not scowl or snap at her, much like he would have years ago. Instead, he lets her pull him down, until he’s sprawled out on the bed next to her. She smiles at him as though she’s glad to have him so close—smiling as though he isn’t the Fell Dragon, as though he hasn’t destroyed countless lives, as though he isn’t capable of so much more destruction than he already has wrought—and doesn’t so much as flinch as he leans in to kiss her. She only sighs into the contact, relaxing as the kiss becomes slow, deep, and almost chaste. Her fingers run through his hair. He rests his hand on her hip lightly, almost tentatively.

 

              It feels…nice.

 

_Like something I don’t deserve._

 

              Almost instantly, he goes rigid, the low, simmering desire in his gut overrun by a sudden wave of self-loathing and bitterness. She must feel the sudden change in his enthusiasm, because she pulls back slightly to look at him, her brow furrowed. She studies his face. “What’s wrong?”

 

              He only stares back at her. Silence stretches between them, and he can tell she’s confused, and more than a little concerned. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, guarded. “Why do you care so much for me?”

 

              Kiran blinks. “Huh?”

 

              “I could destroy you,” he states simply, matter-of-factly. It _is_ a fact of reality that he is unfathomably more powerful than she is. Past the scope of Breidablik preventing him from harming the one who summoned him, she is only a human: weak, fragile, helpless. He has seen her narrowly fall from an enemy’s blow; he has seen her crumble beneath a simple cold, driven by one too many late nights and lack of care for her own health. He runs his fingers over her throat, pressing them against where her pulse throbs against his thumb in a steady beat. He knows the quickest way to snap a human’s neck—to take away a life within a matter of seconds. It’s nothing to a god. “I have destroyed so many of your worthless kind before. What is to stop me from one more?”

 

              He half-expects Kiran to crack a joke, much like she always does whenever things get uncomfortable. He’s surprised when she only gazes back at him, steadily. A glimmer of sadness passes through her eyes, most of all when she runs her hands over his mark, the mark of the Grimleal, over his right hand.

 

              “Nothing could really stop you, if you wanted to,” she admits softly, her gaze on his hand, where the mark stands in dark, purple ink, “except yourself, I guess.” Her eyes flick back up to his face. “You’ve had plenty of chances before, Grima. Sure, Breidablik stops you from hurting me directly, but what about all those times you swooped in to save me from an enemy cavalier or swordsman? All those times you guarded me in your true form? If you hadn’t protected me then…”

 

              She trails off pointedly. Something lumps in his throat at the idea of her dying at all, but he swallows it back. His expression darkens. “It still does not explain _your_ actions,” he points out, tersely, refusing to state exactly why he thinks the idea of allowing her to die is so unacceptable. “Why you’ve gone so far to speak with me, to touch me, to…lay with me. Your selflessness can only stretch so far before my suspicions drive me to assume that your claims of wanting to give me something with nothing in return are only more mortal lies.”

 

              “I wanted to show you that not everyone will hurt you,” she murmurs. “That—that it’s possible to care for others simply because you _care_ , and not because you want something from them. Humanity is cruel sometimes, Grima, but to say that every single person is ugly and selfish isn’t fair, either. There’s good out there, and everyone has the potential to _be_ good, somewhere inside themselves.”

 

              “Good?” he echoes, bitterly. “I have no goodness inside me, Kiran. Do not delude yourself into believing that you have changed me. A millennium of being shaped by the ugly greed of mortals surpasses whatever naïve, hopeful drivel you never cease to try and feed me.”

 

              Kiran doesn’t falter. She curls her fingers around his. “You do have good,” she insists, quietly. “I’ve seen it, hidden in your jaded insecurities caused by all those years of having people take advantage of that goodness. You may not be completely good, but…nobody is. What matters to me is the fact that you’ve been thinking about this.”

 

              He scowls. “Why does that, of all things, matter?”

 

              “Because,” she musters a tiny smile, “it means that it matters to _you_. You wouldn’t be thinking of it otherwise, right?”

 

              “Sentiment,” he spits out, dryly. “ _Pointless_ sentiment. Is that all then? You merely wish to change me? To draw out whatever _goodness_ you claim to see within me? That is why you stay by my side?”

 

              His voice is jagged and angry and desperate. Kiran’s smile fades, but she doesn’t retreat. She holds onto his hand a little tighter, biting her lip as she seems to debate with herself over what to say. Then, just as the urge to pull away from her completely rears its head once more, she squeezes his hand and confesses in a small voice, “No, it’s because…I love you, and all the jagged pieces within you that you think can be nothing _but_ ugly.”

 

              He stops. Something in his chest stutters to a halt, and he stares down at her. The fury within him freezes. His own self-disgust pauses. There are only those words and Kiran, gazing back at him, nervous and flustered but _honest_ , like she always is.

 

              She swallows thickly before she repeats, firmer this time, “I love you, Grima. That’s—that’s why I stay,” she confesses. He catches the glassiness of her eyes before she drops her gaze finally, red creeping to the tips of her ears. “I—I never wanted to tell you, since I never wanted to trouble you, or ruin our relationship, but—”

 

              “Say it again,” he cuts in, abruptly. His expression is raw when she looks back up at him, something vulnerable and near-hopeful in his red eyes. “ _Say it_.”

 

              Kiran turns a little redder, but willingly breathes, “I love you. I love all of _you_ , and only you.”

 

              He surges forward and kisses her, hard and deep and hungry. She lets out a tiny word of surprise, but returns it with equal desperation, gasping when he bites on her lower lip. His tongue sweeps into her mouth, their teeth clacking together as they tangle in one another. His arousal comes back in full force—he wonders if it ever truly left—and he hisses as she rolls them over so she’s on top, her hands already roaming across his chest. She rolls her hips against him, her wetness brushing against his erection. His hands grab her ass, squeezing her cheeks and parting them to let his cock rub in-between. She moans against his mouth, and for a long, breathless moment, they only rut against one another, wrapped up in bruising kisses.

 

              Grima’s nails dig into her backside. He breaks off the kiss to stare up at her. “Let me take you,” he breathes—the closest he will ever come for asking permission, only for her.

 

              Her eyes glaze over, and she nods. She sits up, nervous but determined. “I think I’m finally ready to ride that dragon,” she jokes, but her heart isn’t in it. She’s equally as desperate as he is, if the way she continues to rub against him is any indication. She breathes in deeply and lifts herself off of him, her hand dropping to try and align him with her entrance. He forces himself not to move as she slowly sinks down into him, groaning at the stretch; he only grips onto her, tight enough to leave marks, head spinning at how tight she feels around him. A choked curse tears out of him when she abruptly moves her hips, and he looks up at her to find her gazing back down at him, breathless and flushed. “Let’s start slow, okay?”

 

              It’s maddening to do so, but for the first few moments, she is in control of the tempo. She presses her hands on his chest to steady herself, and bites her lip as she slowly begins to lift and drop her hips. He watches her, enraptured by the sight of her taking him: her mouth hangs open as she gasps and moans, her hair falls over her shoulders, her breasts sway with every roll of her hips. He looks at all the marks littering her skin, the bites he’s left on her neck and thighs. His marks, to prove that she is his, and only his.

 

_I love you._

              The warmth soaks into his bones, and the words make his dick twitch inside her. She shudders, and moves a little quicker, rolling her hips until he’s sliding in and out of her steadily. She runs her nails over his chest, lingering over his nipples until he’s squirming, stifling a groan. Her smug smile fades the minute he thrusts up into her in retaliation, and she doubles over him, keening at the feeling. Her breasts press against his chest, bare skin to bare skin. They stare at each other for a long moment, before she nods, hazy with lust, and kisses him just as he begins to thrust into her in earnest. He grabs her ass, and she twists her hips to take him in deeper, meeting his hips with hers in a brutal, desperate pace. The mattress shakes. The headboard snaps into the wall. The slap of skin meeting skin, the sounds of them kissing and gasping into each other’s mouths, and the creaking bedframe are the only sounds in the room.

 

              Kiran kisses him one last time before she sits back up to ride him again, her thighs trembling as she moves herself this time. She doesn’t bother to bite back her noises. She’s lost in using him to pleasure herself, ragged moans tearing from her throat with every snap of her hips, her fingers splayed against his shoulders as she fucks herself on his cock. Her voice breaks when she manages to find the right spot, and her rhythm crumbles as she simply moves herself as quickly and as hard as she can to hit it. Her hands scrabble to keep herself balanced as she moves, faster and faster, choking out tiny, ‘ _oh_ ’s until her voice hits a desperate note as she comes. She squeezes him as she twitches and bucks against him, her orgasm making her entire body shudder as she rides out the high.

 

              “Grima,” she breathes, shivering as she shifts and still feels him hard inside her, “I love you.”

 

              He lets out a wordless sound of need, and lifts her. She yelps when he presses her against the bed instead, still deep within her. He pushes her legs up, nestling his thighs beneath them, and leans over her. “You’ll love this, then,” he murmurs, low and heated, before he begins to thrust into her anew. His pace is harder this time now that he has the angle and positioning to piston himself into her. It’s a good angle, too; he can still watch her all he likes while moving into her as quickly and as fiercely as he wants. She feels warm and wet and so, so good, and he moves just a little bit faster, fingers dropping to rub her clit as he fucks her into the mattress. The headboard is rocking into the wall harder now, hard enough for someone in the room next to them to realize what is happening if Kiran’s loud moans aren’t telling enough, but he doesn’t care; he wants everyone to know what he’s doing, wants everyone to know that Kiran is his.

 

              She loves him.

 

 _And I,_ he thinks as he watches her twist and gasp beneath him, legs and breasts swaying as he thrusts into her over and over, _I love her._

 

              It’s finally an acknowledgement, not a sudden realization. The ache in his chest that appears whenever she’s around finally has a name, and the fact that she feels the _same_ —he moves a little quicker, groaning as his own pleasure is steadily reaching a peak. Kiran is beautiful, her voice little more than ragged, desperate cries, as she bounces on his cock, far more stunning than any of the whores that attempted to win him over with their bodies; far more _real_ than anyone before. He presses her harder into the mattress, hands cupping her breasts as he moves, his legs slapping into the back of her thighs and the mattress creaking as they move together.

 

              “G-Grima,” she chokes out, one hand gripping the bed, the other reaching up to grab his arm, shakily, “I’m— _c-close_ —”

 

              He nods and leans down to press against her fully, twisting one hand into her hair and the other dropping to grip the back of her thigh as he fucks her. He kisses her jawline, groaning as his own orgasm burns in his gut. “Come for me,” he hisses into her ear, biting down on the sensitive skin beneath the lobe. “I want to hear you. I want everyone to hear you, and know that you are mine, and mine alone.”

 

              She comes again with a cry, shuddering as another orgasm rips through her. She wraps her arms around his neck, bucking against him as she tightens around him all over again—only this time, he follows right after her, thrusting into that tightness once more before he comes inside her. She drags him into a deep, messy kiss that slowly turns into smaller chaste kisses as their frantic groping settles in the wake of them riding out the rest of their highs. Her lips flutter over his chin and cheeks. He pulls out of her, both of them shivering a little at the sensation, before he lies back against her. He studies her, imprinting the sight of her flushed and sated next to him, and kisses her forehead on impulse. When he pulls back, she looks at him with wide eyes, cheeks pinking for a reason entirely different than the fact that they’re still pressed together, naked and sweaty. He feels the familiar self-conscious doubt trickle down his back, most of all when she abruptly sits up.

 

              Then she tugs the blanket over both of them and nestles back against him, closer than necessary. She tucks her head under his chin and throws her arm around his body, her feet poking his. It’s warm and comfortable, and she sighs contentedly. He stiffens slightly, half-expecting her to want to talk, but she only presses a sleepy kiss to his chest and murmurs, “Rest, okay?”

 

              Grima considers the words. Surprisingly enough—or perhaps not that surprising anymore—he never considers leaving. Instead, he slowly wraps an arm around Kiran and closes his eyes, savouring her warmth. He listens to her breathing even out. He wills himself to relax until his own breathing smooths out alongside hers, steady and secure and _safe_ as he drifts off to slumber.

 

              For the first time, he has a long and deep sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I liked that FEH gave us a glimpse into the possible baggage that Grima carries as a character from his LV 40 convo, but don't let that distract you from the fact that this was still 1000% self-indulgent PWP for one of my favs. it was meant to be only schmoopy fluff, but it somehow turned into ... all of this.
> 
> i still really like the Kiran/Grima dynamic in general, though, especially since there's so much potential there for growth on both ends (esp Grima's). and i appreciate you reading all this, too!
> 
> now pls excuse me as i go hide under a rock and stay there


End file.
